Castles, They Might Crumble
by Magic Crafter
Summary: AU. Lily survives Voldemort's attack and goes to an old friend for help. Incomplete.
1. Prologue: Halloween

**A/N: **This is my first-ever attempt at Harry Potter fanfiction…so please be sort of nice to me. =) This chapter is fairly short, but I promise, they'll get longer. I tried to be true to what JKR gave us but add some of my own stuff as well. Hope I pulled it off. (And no, I don't know when my other fics are getting updates yet.)

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bro's. Don't sue.

* * *

**Monday, 31 October, 1981**

Things were perfect in the Potters' quiet household, located in the sleepy little village Godric's Hollow. Or rather, as perfect as life could be when you were hiding from the most powerful Dark wizard in history. Lord Voldemort's power was second only to Albus Dumbledore's; but these days even Dumbledore's resistance organization, the Order of the Phoenix, barely had a good leg to stand on anymore. Members were being murdered far more quickly than they could be recruited. Death Eaters seemed to vastly outnumber them. Everyone in the Order was holding their breath, particularly those of them who, like the Potters, had small children. Raising a family in such a hostile climate was risky at best, but Lily Potter was a headstrong, vibrant sort of girl. She refused to put her life on hold for Voldemort, though she was only twenty-one. Her baby boy was the light of her life, perfect in every way.

Lily never thought she could love anything or anyone as much as she adored her son. Then again, it was just one surprise among many: she never thought she'd end up married to James Potter, either. He had been the bane of her life at Hogwarts. Four years out of school, however, had utterly transformed him. He'd gone from a conceited troublemaker and Quidditch star to a courageous, loving husband and father. Now, Lily was convinced that there was nothing James would not do for her or Harry.

In the end, falling in love with James—and accepting his proposal—had been incredibly easy.

But through all that, in spite of all their happiness, the risk still remained, looming over their heads collectively until finally settling on the Potters' young shoulders when they'd found out Voldemort was after them in particular—and their son. It horrified Lily to think that someone—no matter how evil—would intentionally target a one-year-old child and seek him out, intent on stealing his young life away. It dismayed and infuriated her at the same time, and she made a promise that she would keep her Harry safe. She had to. For how could she live if Harry fell into Voldemort's clutches? What would her life be worth?

Not everything had changed. She and James celebrated Harry's first birthday at the end of July quietly; Sirius brought his godson a toy broomstick that exasperated Lily and thrilled the birthday boy.

_The six of them sat in the Potters' small living room, crowded onto the sofa. A pile of colored paper lay scattered on the floor. Their cat stalked, unnoticed, towards one of the ribbons, batting at it curiously with a paw. Everyone's attention was fixed on little Harry. The little boy sitting on Lily's lap was already a miniature of James with the exception of his eyes, which widened with delight when his "Uncle" Sirius passed him a long package. He eagerly tore into it, though Lily had to help him open the box itself, and one of his chubby hands curled around the handle of a toy broomstick, much smaller than a real one, but with quite accurate details nevertheless._

"_What do you say, Harry?" Lily prompted him, kissing the top of his head. She already knew this was going to be a headache, but Harry was grinning as though there was no better present in the world._

"_Thanks, Uwncle Siwius," the child said obediently; his green eyes were fixed on the new toy._

_James chuckled. "Never too soon to start learning the family business."_

_Lily groaned softly, which only made the rest of them laugh all the harder. She had nothing against Quidditch—she just didn't want her little boy to grow up with as inflated an ego as his father. Maybe that was impossible, given how much they coddled him…but it was so hard not to love Harry, especially since every moment with him might be their last._

_She didn't want to think like that on his birthday, but it was true._

_All they could do was believe that Harry was going to grow up and be a Quidditch star without Voldemort threatening his safety and happiness. Someday—someday soon—they would be able to defeat him…and they would somehow keep Harry out of harm's way. Voldemort wasn't going to touch him. _

"_I'm sure he'll do plenty of damage with it," Lily finally conceded, trying to sound flippant and untroubled…but she wrapped her arms more tightly around Harry all the same.  
_

Dumbledore had convinced them, however, to truly go into "hiding" at last. He had offered to be their Secret-Keeper himself, but James had turned him down—a bit proudly, to Lily's thinking—saying they would use Sirius instead. Neither he nor Lily trusted anyone more implicitly than him. Yet only a few days ago, it had been Sirius who had suggested they change their minds, fearful that he would seem the obvious choice.

So finally, the Potters entrusted their hiding place with Peter Pettigrew, an unassuming young man and another of James' old school friends. Though they had been reluctant to follow Sirius' advice, Lily was beginning to see why he had suggested the switch. Voldemort and his followers wouldn't dream of suspecting poor Peter, who was talentless and very nearly friendless. And now there was little more they could do. Over the past week, life had settled into a quiet routine. It was normal…almost normal.

Though she was nearly going mad from being confined to their home, even for a short time, Lily was comforted by telling herself that it was for Harry's safety. She and James kept in touch with Dumbledore and a few, select members of the Order, but to the rest of the wizarding world, they may as well no longer have existed. So over the course of a week, monotony had become their way of life, but Lily took that as a good sign. Every day that passed in peace allowed them to relax by perhaps a fraction of an inch, to inhale that much deeper.

That was the attitude with which Lily and James celebrated Halloween. Dumbledore had dropped by the day before and delivered a modest-sized pumpkin, which Lily had spent almost an hour carving for their son. The result was a somewhat lopsided but nevertheless cheerful-looking jack-o-lantern wearing a silly grin.

"What do you think, hmm? Is he the perfect pumpkin?" she asked, bending down to lift Harry into her arms. He giggled and clapped, pointing gleefully at the face. Lily thought that it was a good thing he was already in his pajamas. Bits of the inside of the pumpkin clung to her black sweater, though thankfully none was in her hair, which she had pulled up to give Harry his bath earlier.

"Not perfect quite yet…"

The sound of James' voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she looked around at her grinning husband. He came downstairs and kissed Lily's cheek. Then, suddenly, the jack-o-lantern's jolly face had been disfigured by a ghastly scowl. He was obviously hoping to get a laugh out of Harry, but instead the little boy whimpered, hiding his face in his mother's shoulder. Lily frowned at him. Lily frowned at him. "James…."

James smiled sheepishly by way of an apology and restored Lily's handiwork with a flick of his wand, which he stuck into his back pocket. Then he reached out and scooped the baby into his arms. "No hard feelings, right?" he asked, meeting Harry's eyes with a solemn. Harry nodded, matching his father's gravity—but then James kissed his little face and began tickling him, which was met with wild and overjoyed laughter from Harry.

"I love you, son," he promised Harry seriously. Harry beamed at him happily.

Watching the two of them together, Lily thought she might cry. How could anyone, even Voldemort, want to harm something as precious as her baby boy? How could he bring anyone anything but joy? She loved him so much that sometimes she wondered if she could bear the intensity of it every day for the rest of her life. She loved _both _of them that much. After all, without James, there would be no Harry.

He tossed little Harry into the air—Lily held her breath—and caught him deftly again, earning another round of breathless laughter. The two of them collapsed onto the sofa, James' glasses askew. "This is why your mummy loves me," he informed him smartly.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Yes, he's quite charming," she allowed and leaned over the back of the sofa and plucking James' wand out of his pocket before it snapped. James leaned up and kissed her, snatching his wand away from her in the process. She pulled her face away and smacked the top of his head playfully.

"James Potter, you are going to turn your son into just as much of a troublemaker as you were, and I'll never forgive you," she laughed. "Never!"

"I be a twoublemaker like Daddy," Harry repeated proudly. Chestnut eyes sparkling with mischief, he mussed up his son's hair affectionately; it was already as black and nearly untidy as his own. The little boy yawned widely. He was clearly making a stalwart effort to stay awake, but Lily saw that he was tired.

She came around in front of the sofa this time. "I think it's almost someone's bedtime."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but James hoisted him into his arms, getting up with a playful sort of groan. "Getting bigger every day, you are…" He leaned over Harry and pecked Lily on the cheek. "I'll put him to bed tonight."

As James carried Harry upstairs, Lily sank down onto the sofa, exhausted but nevertheless quite content. Five years ago, she would never have dreamed that she might agree to go out with James Potter, much less marry him. But then he had shown up at Hogwarts with a gleaming Head Boy badge—much to her dismay—and they had begun going on patrol together. She had slowly come round as she saw the more responsible side of him. She had learned to love James, come to appreciate Quidditch, and learned to laugh along with Sirius and Remus and Peter, too, though it became obvious that their true troublemaking days were over.

Then, almost as soon as they had graduated, life had become much more serious and dangerous, and Lily had been unspeakably grateful for having James to love, one of the few lights in their suddenly dark world. He had asked her to marry him that Christmas.

She had said yes, of course.

And…well, the rest was history.

And she wouldn't have changed a moment of it, even if Voldemort was now pursuing her small family because her Harry was _supposedly_ to be his downfall.

"What are you thinking about, beautiful girl?" James asked from behind her.

"About you, of course," she replied, turning a little and smiling up at him. Sirius—and even Remus—were probably handsomer than James. Actually, lots of boys she had known at Hogwarts were. But James' confidence (once it had been arrogance) and his sweetness were more than enough to make up for whatever he lacked in looks.

He smirked, coming around to her side of the sofa and pulling her into a suffocating hug. "Oh really?"

"I'm sure you of all—"

The front door bust open. James and Lily shared a terrified look for a moment—for less—for a heartbeat. Then he pushed her away forcefully. He reached for his wand as Lily, instinctively, moved towards the stairwell.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him!" James yelled suddenly, though they were barely a few yards apart. She froze on the spot, her heart pounding furiously. No. This couldn't be happening. Not now, so soon after they thought they were safe. How could Peter…? "Go!" he prompted, his eyes wide behind his square frames, looking at her as though she was mad not to be running already. "Run! I'll hold him off!"

Lily didn't need telling a third time. She ran, taking the stairs two at a time. A wild survival instinct guided her feet as she fled to Harry's nursery. The door was still open. She stopped in front of his cot, reaching into it to pick him up. His tiny fingers curled around her sweater. Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs and she wheeled around to see James blocking the doorway. And then—almost silently—Voldemort appeared, hideously familiar and utterly terrifying. Lily felt as though the air was made of lead. Each slow, shuddering breath she took required extreme effort.

James squared his shoulders, stood his ground. "Kill me," he pleaded in a low, hollow voice, "kill me and leave my wife and my son alone. Let them live."

Horror coursed through her very blood. "No, James. No," Lily murmured. It was almost a prayer.

"Get out of the way. Save yourself…save the girl," Voldemort hissed, his eyes narrowing, if that was even possible.

"No." James shook his head fiercely. "Our boy is no threat to you—he's only a child!"

But Voldemort was not willing to waste any more time arguing. He seemed to realize that the only way he could move James to reach his object—Harry—was to kill him. He raised his wand—

Lily closed her eyes against the horrible green flash. "_James!"_ she half-screamed his name—it was the only reason she didn't hear the sickening sound of James' lifeless body falling against the floor. Harry was whimpering pitifully now. Only dry sob escaped Lily's lips as Voldemort advanced into the room.

"Not Harry, not Harry, _please_ not Harry!" She clung to her little boy desperately for a moment before she began to back away, placing him with shaking hands in his crib. "Take me instead. My life for Harry's."

Voldemort narrowed his snake-like eyes then and raised his wand. "Stand aside, you silly girl!" He hissed the words at her coldly. "Stand aside now."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead. Have mercy…have mercy!" Lily shrieked – but Voldemort had had enough. He shoved her away from her son with incredible force, knocking her to the floor. Her head struck the wall. Then he began to advance on Harry. He was bawling now, obviously terrified by Lily's screams. Though her head was throbbing, she crawled towards the crib and attempted to push herself up in a last-ditch effort to put a physical barrier between herself and her baby. "Not Harry!" she whispered again.

Voldemort must have heard, for he glanced towards her again, then kicked her ruthlessly out of the way. He pointed the wand straight at Harry…said those horrible words—"_No!"_ Lily breathed—a flash of blinding green light…and then—

Darkness.


	2. Chapter One

**A/N: **The next chapter probably won't be up so quickly, but this was just begging to be written. As you might notice, Dumbledore's plan for Harry's living arrangements will have to be reconsidered...

**Disclaimer:** JKR, etc., own everything; I own nothing!

_Don't forget to leave a review!_

* * *

Remus Lupin was a fairly attractive and very bright twenty-one-year-old man. He had gone to the best school in the country—possibly in the world—and had gotten top marks in nearly everything. He had joined a prestigious peacekeeping organization after graduating. He had four of the best friends anyone could hope for, and a small "nephew" who he adored.

But Remus' life had its drawbacks, too.

First, and perhaps worst, he was a werewolf and had been for nearly as long as he could remember. Now that he was no longer at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his curse had once again become painful and lonely—and far more dangerous.

Second, Voldemort was preying on his friends and colleagues, and no one knew just how long they would live these days, because Death Eaters could pick people off for no particular reason. Worse still, there was no end in sight: no one knew just how to defeat Voldemort, or if it could even be done, not even the members of Albus Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix.

Third, and definitely most heartbreaking for Remus, he knew at least one of his friends suspected that he was a traitor and working for Voldemort in secret.

And now he could not even visit Lily and James and their young son Harry.

Remus did try hard not to dwell on his loneliness or his fear. Someday, Voldemort would be finished off and they could all breathe a little easier, though he was certain that his own personal position in life would not have improved much. No matter what, people would always shun him and fear him because he was a werewolf. It was already difficult to find work, being what he was. The result was obvious: he always looked a bit tired or sickly, and his clothing and furniture were in an irreparable state of shabbiness. He simply couldn't afford better. He did try to keep his small home neat and clean, but it could not make up for the fact that he was poor, and likely always would be, no matter how smart or talented a wizard he was.

He had just been straightening things up and heading off to bed when a large owl rapped on his kitchen window. Wondering who in the world could be writing him at this time of night, Remus opened it untied the scroll of parchment from its leg.

The handwriting was immediately familiar. His stomach lurched unpleasantly, but as he read the letter itself, Remus found himself stumbling for a chair—any chair.

_My dear Remus,_

_It is my very unfortunate duty to inform you that Lord Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow tonight. He found the Potters. Lily and James were both killed in the attack. Little Harry, however, somehow managed to escape. Hagrid has collected him and will shortly deliver him to his only living relatives. (I can say no more, for fear this owl could be intercepted.)_

_The house and everything in it was destroyed. Most curiously, however, there is no sign of Voldemort. He did not leave his Mark above the house, and there is reason to believe that he—in his present form, at least—did not survive this encounter._

_I would implore you, Remus, not to do anything rash tonight or tomorrow. I will be in touch, and I offer my deepest sympathies to you now._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Reaching the end of the letter and already feeling as though he'd been hit in the stomach with something very heavy, Remus went back and read it a second time—then a third. _Lily and James…both killed…no sign of Voldemort… _No matter how many times he looked it over, none of the words seemed to be registering with him. Lily and James couldn't possibly be dead. James was his dearest friend in the world—with the exception, of course, of Sirius.

_Sirius._

Remus' hand closed into a fist, crumpling the parchment. This was his fault. Sirius had turned them in. He was finally living up to all his family's expectations! It was disgusting. He had turned Lily and James in. Lily, who'd finally come round and accepted them all for what they were, rather than trying to make them into what she wished they would be. And James—James, the brother Sirius had always wanted Regulus to be. The Potters had all but _adopted_ Sirius, treating him as their own son. And Harry! Even if Sirius was despicable enough to give his best friends to Voldemort, what about _Harry?_ He was just a baby.

He felt ill and angry at the same time. To think that one of his best friends was dead and the other Voldemort's spy…it didn't seem possible. They had known each other so well. They had been Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs!

As dearly as Remus would have loved to track Sirius down and make him pay for what he'd done, Dumbledore was right: it wouldn't serve him well to do anything rash. He didn't want to land himself in Azkaban for the sake of Sirius Black. Half an hour ago, he would have gladly died for Sirius—or for James, for that matter—but now…Now everything was different.

Dropping the letter, Remus hid his face in his hands. He was too stunned and far too angry to cry. He couldn't even be glad that little Harry—practically a second James—had somehow, miraculously survived. All he could think was that now he was well and truly alone in the world: the only person he had left was Peter, and truthfully, he couldn't hold a candle to James _or_ Sirius. He had always been a little below them, a little outside the circle…and who would have thought that, when James was dead and Sirius had shown his true colors, that Peter would be the only friend Remus had left?

He closed his eyes. Things should never have come to this. But now they had—and he couldn't change anything. He was utterly powerless.

It might have been ten minutes or two hours, but finally, as word spread of Voldemort's fall and the wizarding world began to rejoice, Remus Lupin sat in a rickety kitchen chair, head in his hands, sobbing for what he had lost that terrible night.

* * *

When Lily opened her eyes, she could not remember where she was—or what had happened. The reprieve, however, was very brief. She realized with a sickening jolt that she was lying on top of the rubble which had, until that evening, been her home. There was a small trickle of blood running down her forehead, which pounded mercilessly. Her whole body ached, and it was easy to see why: the house had come apart around her. Only a small part of the nursery floor remained in tact. It was a miracle to roof had not crushed her when it had collapsed. She lifted her head slightly, reaching around to rub the stiff neck.

Then her emerald eyes, glistening with fresh tears, spotted James.

He was lying several feet away, motionless, his legs hidden by pieces of the ceiling and roof. Lily caught her breath and crept slowly across the rubble. She tenseness in her muscles seeped away as she took him by the shoulders and shook him as violently as she could. She knew it was useless, yet was hoping against hope…but…nothing. He wouldn't move…couldn't. Of course he couldn't. The truth was overpowering. Lily wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his lifeless chest for a few moments, still half-expecting it to rise and fall with every breath. "James! Oh, God."

But no, he was gone. Forever. The "insufferable" James Potter had died doing the most heroic thing she had ever seen or even heard of: trying to protect his family. Apparently he had succeeded.

Slowly, reluctantly, Lily looked up. Her dark auburn hair had come down and was now clinging to her damp, tear-stained cheeks. She touched her husband's face tenderly with one hand. "James…" How often had she told him how dearly she loved him? Not enough. It would never have been enough. Drawing a quavering breath, she leaned over to kiss his lips one last time. Then she removed his glasses, a few tears dotting his cool, pale skin. They were miraculously unbroken…and they were all she had of him now. Her fingers trembled as she pocketed them.

Lily stood up on unsteady legs. It was still pitch black, though surely morning was coming soon. Shakily, she made her way to Harry's cot, which was somehow still upright—and more importantly, empty. Fear gripped her heart again, unrivaled even by Voldemort's arrival earlier in the night. _Where was her baby?_ She could not see any other limp forms strewn across the rubble, not even when she raised her wand and stammered, "_Lumos!_" The pale blue light illuminated only broken furniture and pieces of the roof and walls. She couldn't hear Harry crying, either.

Someone had taken him. He _had _to be alive. And to find him, she desperately needed help. Lily didn't know why their house was in pieces. She didn't know why Harry had vanished, why Voldemort hadn't finished her off, or why a Dark Mark did not hang ominously over what had once been the Potter home. She did, however, know one simple fact: she to leave, even if it meant abandoning James—he was quite obviously beyond help now. She muttered a brief prayer, and with new determination in her heart, vanished from the ruins of her short married life with a sharp _crack_!

Newly-widowed Lily Potter was going to find her baby even if it meant tracking down Voldemort himself to do so.

As much to her surprise as it would have been to anyone else's, she arrived at the doorstep of a tiny, shabby-looking house which belonged to one of her husband's three dearest friends. Well, _two _dearest friends now. Lily realized with devastating clarity that Peter Pettigrew was not so innocent and unassuming after all. He had betrayed them. Anger flared deep within her grief-stricken heart, but she didn't have time for that at the moment. The only thought keeping her on her feet was Harry: she had to find Harry.

This mantra made her throw herself like a madwoman at Remus Lupin's door. She banged on it with abandon. "Remus! It's Lily! Oh, Remus—James—James is—and _Harry_! You have to help me! Please open the door!" Her voice hung halfway between screams and sobs. Lily could only wait, and hope that Remus was both at home and awake.

In his kitchen, Remus started, suddenly alert and wide-eyed. He did not know how much time had passed since he had received Dumbledore's letter—a few hours, perhaps—but plenty of time for word of Voldemort's downfall to reach his supporters. They would be angry…perhaps they had sent someone to track down the Potters' remaining friends and punish them…perhaps they had sent Sirius, even. He stumbled out into the hall, looking around for his wand. Where was it? And was that…

"Remus!" It was a woman's voice, hoarse but pitched very high. "Remus _please_!"

Remus stared at the door, dumbfounded, as if it would let him know that he was not going completely mad. He could swear that the voice from the other side belonged to none other than Lily Potter—but it could hardly be Lily. Her body was lying in Godric's Hollow with James'. Lily was dead. His guard was immediately up and he searched frantically for his wand again, practically running into the living room, pushing things aside until he found it, forgotten between the cushions of his rather ratty sofa. Meanwhile, the woman outside was still pleading with him, blubbering things about James and Harry and Voldemort. Wand now grasped tightly in his hand, Remus approached the door cautiously.

"Please, Remus, please let me in. Please be awake…." She sounded almost as though she was speaking to herself now. He bit his lip. What if this was simply a trick…?

At last, he stammered, "Who—who's there?"

Outside the door, Lily was nearly hysterical. She couldn't do anything properly. Her legs were shaky, her voice kept breaking and her normally vivid green eyes were blurred with new tears…she couldn't even _think _straight. Remus' voice came through the haze of her overwhelming emotions, however, and for a moment the thought that she had a friend just beyond that door comforted her. But only for a moment. Maybe he wasn't a friend at all, she thought for half a second. Maybe they'd _all_ turned tail and gone to Voldemort, like Peter had done. She shuddered and dismissed the idea that Remus would betray them. Surely not Remus, of all people.

"Remus?"

Inside, Remus had finally thought of a way to determine if the voice speaking to him was truly Lily Potter—though she couldn't possibly be. "What…what did Sirius get Harry for his last birthday?" he asked, remembering with the faintest of smiles the look of dismay on Lily's face when Harry had unwrapped a shiny toy broomstick. She had never quite approved of James' love affair with Quidditch, especially not in their earlier years at Hogwarts…It was the ideal security question, unless—unless Sirius had fed them that kind of information for just such an occasion…

…he was asking her a question, but the words did nothing but spin in Lily's mind. All she heard was _Harry_ – Harry, her little boy, her baby. She hadn't kept her promise. She'd been unable to keep him safe. For all her courage and intelligence and willpower, that same little boy's normally confident, rather stubborn mother was now a bawling mess. She had no idea where Harry was or if he was even alive, or if she'd ever see him again.

If there was a God, why would He let this kind of thing happen to good people like her and James?

Some part of Lily's mind, however, forced Remus' words to replay slowly in her mind. Sirius. Harry's birthday. Painfully, she thought back to exactly three months before, to a delighted little baby tearing open the paper of his godfather's gift, and discovering a toy broomstick. His eyes, so much like hers—identical, really—lighting up in surprised delight. James helping him onto it, leaving them all in stitches…. Lily swallowed hard, running a hand through her tangled red hair. She gave up halfway through, wincing in pain.

"A—a toy broomstick," she said. "H-harry wanted to t-take it with him everywhere." _He would have slept with it, if he could've,_ she thought miserably. She had been blessed with the sweetest, most mild-mannered, adorable little baby boy on the whole planet. That he could be James Potter's son, no matter how much she loved James, amazed her.

Lily again took in a deep, shuddering breath. "Please, Remus—let me inside."

The idea of lingering here, out in the open, frightened her. Perhaps she should have gone to Dumbledore…but that would have required exposing herself even more, give the safety precautions used around the Order's headquarters. Perhaps she ought to have found Sirius…but knowing Sirius, hotheaded as he was, he had already heard the news and was searching for Peter—or God forbid, Voldemort himself. It was just the sort of thing their best mate would do, wasn't it? He lacked a remarkable amount of common sense most of the time…

Suddenly the door was thrown open, and there was Remus, his knuckles white from how tightly he was gripping his wand. "Lily…?"

She knew she was covered in sweat and dust and bits of the house, as well, but she could not help herself. The sight of a friend standing there, looking dreadfully pale and more than a little scared, was so welcome that she began to cry all over again as she flung her arms around him, nearly toppling them both over.

Remus put an arm around her shoulders, patting her gently on the back, but he was at a complete loss for words. How was it possible that she was still alive? Dumbledore had said she was dead. Dumbledore was never wrong. Then again, he had been the one who had said that the charm would keep them safe… He guided Lily inside, shutting the door and trying to redo the locks with Lily's arms still tightly around his neck. She sounded as though she was crying all over again, not that he could blame her. She had every reason to be upset.

"Here, sit." Somehow he had managed to get them to the living room. Lily—looking a bit reluctant—released him and sunk onto the sofa. The look of joy faded from her pretty face quickly. However, she still managed to fold her hands into her lap, holding them still as best she could. A brave face was necessary here; she knew perfectly well that she couldn't simply break down. Things had to be done. Peter Pettigrew had to be found, punished…most importantly of all, her _baby _had to be found. How could she go on without knowing what had happened to Harry?

Stupidly, Remus looked around and—without thinking—said, "Where—where's James…?"

His horror-struck expression was matched by Lily's. His question cut through her heart like a knife. "James—," she began, but she couldn't finish. She knew perfectly well that her husband was dead, and had died in the noblest way possible. _I know James Potter's an arrogant toerag! _For some reason, the memory of those words only made her more miserable. If only she had known the _truth. _If only she'd known then that she and James would enjoy only four short years together before Voldemort hunted them down and destroyed their little family. And besides, her so-called friend, Severus, was obviously nowhere close to James when it came to heroism and courage and common sense. The Dark Arts were a perilous road…but Severus had chosen that road, and she had chosen James.

Lily shook her head. Remus had not expected an answer, for which she was grateful. But how could she begin to recount the events of that evening?

She thought of Harry again and set her jaw. She was going to find him. At any other time, she would have been concerned for Remus, who looked nearly as miserable and tired as she was. Now, though, Harry was the only thing keeping her going. If Harry had been dead (perish the thought!) or in her arms, she could not possibly have donated what little strength she had left to anything but grieving for James.

"Are…are you…" Remus searched around for a safer, more logical question. He couldn't imagine what wouldn't upset her after very nearly being murdered by Voldemort, so he settled on asking about her physical well-being, which seemed the most important thing to take care of at the moment anyway. "You aren't hurt, are you?"

It looked as though she had hit her head somehow, but the blood seemed to be dry, which was at least something. Remus was not a very accomplished Healer, but he knew that if Lily needed him to, he would be glad to mend something. It was really the least he could do, now that she had lost everything—her husband, her home, her son. _Not everything, _he corrected himself. Technically Harry was still alive, and besides…well, Lily still had a friend in him. And in Peter, he supposed, though Remus suspected Lily pitied him more than anything.

Lily shook her head weakly—she wasn't hurt, or at least she didn't think so. "V-voldemort…he was just…_there,_ Remus…and…James told me to run—and he followed us, J-james and me upstairs…he…he…killed James. He was trying to stay between us and Voldemort…" She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, but went on. "I – I tried to keep him away from Harry, Remus, I really did…but he pushed me down, and he t-turned on Harry, and I c-couldn't get up…and then I woke up and the house was gone and _Harry_ was gone. He's gone, Remus! I don't know if Voldemort took him or…or what's happened."

All of a sudden, her voice gained angry strength. "He turned us in, Remus. He was supposed to be James' friend…he owed everything to the three of you. Merlin's beard, he wouldn't have passed the first class at Hogwarts without you and Sirius and James! How _could_ he? He sold us to Voldemort. James and me…and _Harry_. Oh, Remus. I've got to find him!"

Her eyes gleamed with new tears, though in Remus' opinion, she looked rather ferocious. Lily could be a bit frightening at times—he had seen it—but he would not want to be the one to stand between her and her baby boy, certainly not now that she no longer had James.

But there was one thing that he was confused about…she had said that "he wouldn't have passed" without the three of them: he, James and _Sirius._ Without Sirius? What was Lily saying? Perhaps she had hit her head a little too hard. Or, worse, maybe Sirius had found her before she had gotten out of Godric's Hollow and done something to make her think he was not the stinking turncoat he was. "He finally lived up to the family name," he said darkly.

Now it was her turn to look puzzled. She stared at him, wondering what he was talking about for a moment. Lived up to the family name? Who? Then it occurred to her that, because Sirius had insisted he might not be trustworthy, they shouldn't tell Remus about their change in plans. Now the thought sickened her. If they _had_ told him, maybe things would have been different. How could they have suspected Remus and been so blind to Peter's treachery? And so of course, until just now, Remus had thought Sirius was behind it all and thought that his friend's heritage had finally caught up with him. She was truly grateful that he did not have quite the temper of Sirius or James—either of them would surely have hunted the betrayer down, but in this case, that would have been a terrible mistake for Remus to have made.

"We changed Secret-Keepers without telling you, Remus," she said softly, But things couldn't have been so very different, even if they _had_ told Remus about the switch. After all, now poor, pitiful Peter had the force of Voldemort and his followers behind him. He was no longer going to be in awe of his school friends now that they weren't the most powerful ones around. And they put that little rat in Gryffindor! It disgusted her beyond words. She just sat there for a moment, thoroughly distracted from her thoughts about finding Harry, marveling in the hideous act Peter had been involved in, probably from the beginning.

Remus stared at her. "Peter?" he repeated in disbelief. "I don't…_Peter._" His fingers curled a bit more tightly around his wand. "I'll kill him."

These words made Lily's eyes widen with a new, terrible realization. She gasped. "Sirius will." She had no doubt that Remus meant what he said, and that his determination was enough to drive him to murder a man he'd shared a dormitory and a relatively close friendship with all these years. Still, Remus' mind worked rather like hers did. Sirius' didn't. She wasn't sure it would come as any big relief to him, knowing she was alive—they hadn't been very fond of each other until she finally warmed up to James and his friends—but he had to be furious that harm had come to James. And unlike Remus, Sirius knew that the traitor was Peter. He would almost certainly try to find him.

"I suppose he will," Remus said coolly, but she was glad to see that he had relaxed his grip and sunk down into one of the mismatched armchairs.

She sighed and leaned against the back of the couch. Remus didn't seem in any rush to stop Sirius from taking revenge on Peter, and she couldn't blame him. What could they do about Sirius' actions that night? Lily was thought to be dead by the whole of the wizarding world, wasn't she? Who was to say Sirius would even believe it was her? Remus had certainly not believed it at first, and he, by comparison, was quite calm and logical.

"Has Dumbledore said anything, Remus? Does he know where Harry is?" She hoped her voice didn't sound as small and desperate as she thought it did.

Dumbledore? Hadn't they just been talking about Peter and Sirius? Remus barely stifled a yawn and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. Dumbledore, Dumbledore… "He wrote and said what happened—didn't go into much detail…he said that…Voldemort's disappeared…" This time, he couldn't keep himself from yawning, though he felt terrible about it. This was serious, especially to Lily, who was probably only a few steps away from panicking. But all these emotions and this new information was almost too much for Remus' tired brain. He was struggling to keep himself on track. "Said…he was sending Harry to his 'only living relatives,' that it was Hagrid who'd take him there…"

Though her eyes glistened with new tears, Lily felt relief sweep over her—Dumbledore knew something about what was going on with Harry. Everything would be alright if Dumbledore was involved. But it hurt to hear Remus toss the information off so matter-of-factly. Relatives? Her parents were dead. James' parents were as well—they had been a good deal older than hers. What other relatives could Dumbledore have possibly found for Harry to live with? She wracked her weary brain, attempting to figure it out, when finally it came to her.

No. Dumbledore wouldn't. Surely he wouldn't give _them_ her baby, not when he _knew…_

"Not my sister!" she groaned, trying desperately to think of someone—anyone—else that Dumbledore could have found to take Harry in. "Not _Tuney_."

They had been so close once…but not anymore. It had been a miracle that Petunia had even attended her wedding. Tuney hated her. She had since Lily had gotten into Hogwarts and she, despite writing to Dumbledore, hadn't. Rather than accepting her little sister for what she was, Tuney had turned on her, labeled her a "freak" and acted as though she didn't exist. For that reason, the two of them had only barely kept in touch since Lily had moved out of their parents' house. Lily did know that Tuney had married an ignorant, closed-minded man named Vernon, whom she had met only once or twice, and that she had a little boy quite near to Harry's age, but other than that….

Lily had the horrible feeling that, if she had died, too, her baby would have been abandoned and alone. Surely Petunia wouldn't take him in. But she didn't have to take him in. He still had a mother—a mother who wanted nothing more to have him safely in her arms again.

"Lily…she's your sister. Even if the two of you don't get along, well…would she really…abandon her own nephew? I mean…she'll think…she'll think you're _dead,_ not that you've gone on holiday and decided to leave Harry behind." This did not win Remus a smile, so he pressed on. "Besides, Dumbledore wouldn't really leave Harry with someone who would turn him out, would he?"

He sounded very hopeful. If only he knew what Petunia was like these days—she didn't want a thing to do with Lily or James or the wizarding world in general. She treated them as though they were lepers. Lily had once proposed that she and James and Harry come over for dinner. It was only fair that Harry and Tuney's son—Dudley?—should meet, since they were so close in age and were, after all, cousins. Petunia had sent back the coldest, shortest letter Lily had ever received, rejecting her offer unequivocally. She did have faith in Dumbledore but this time, he had made a mistake. "I have to get him back. He _can't_ live with Petunia. She'll _hate _him!"

Remus didn't think he had ever seen a more tragic figure than that of the newly-widowed Lily Evans Potter sitting on his sofa, her face lined with tears and blood, her black sweater torn and dusty, her thick red hair hanging in tangles around her face. Worse, she was still trembling and sounded utterly despondent. He hadn't the faintest idea how to comfort her. It wasn't as if he could bring James back—though he certainly wished he could—or fetch Harry for her…

"Will you help me, Remus?" Lily whispered, raising her eyes to meet his. "I don't have anywhere to go now that…now that…" The words escaped her. Repeating the horrible truth would only serve to make it that much more permanent, when at that moment, it felt so surreal. Her home was in pieces. Her husband was dead. Her baby was missing. How could this be happening to her? Would she wake up tomorrow and find that it had all been a very long, hideous dream? No. There was no waking up from this.

It was insulting that Lily even had to ask him if he would help her. Remus leaned forward and put a hand on her knee. "As long as I'm here, you'll always have a place to go, Lily. You're more than welcome to stay here, else what friend would I be?"

His reward was a very slow smile and a yawn from Lily. "Thank you, Remus…c-could you write to Albus for me? About…Harry?" It didn't matter one wit to Lily that Voldemort could not hurt her now. She was lonely and afraid, and she had a feeling she wouldn't be celebrating anything for a long time, now that James had been killed. None of them would. But at least she had Remus, and of course Sirius, and soon—soon she would have her baby back, and they would make some sort of life out of this mess. She supposed that, someday, she might learn to live with the awful ache that James' death had left in her chest.

"Of course," Remus said quickly. "Here, you look like you could do with some rest. Take my bed—and…well, if you'd like to take a bath…"

"I couldn't—where would you…?"

"I'll sleep out here. Really, I insist. Sleep in the bed, Lily."

Lily agreed to accept his offer of a bed, but not of a bath. Though she knew she looked a fright, she could wash that off later, when she had slept for a few hours and wasn't in danger of falling asleep in the bathtub and drowning. No—when she could cope, Lily would wash away the remains of her life with James and attempt to begin a new life, one in which she would be forced to play the part of a widow and a single mother instead of a happy young wife.

"Here—this way…" Remus was guiding her through his small house again, one hand against her back. He looked afraid that she might simply collapse if he didn't give her a bit of support. "Here. Just…relax, and call if you need me. I'm just down the hall here, yeah?"

His bed was soft and warm and she didn't bother to take anything but her shoes off before she climbed into it, thanking him excessively as she did so. Remus was being more than a friend to her. This was something a brother might have done—but Lily had no brothers, only a hateful sister who would be waking to find that Lily was supposedly dead and her only child, a "freak" just like her, had been left in Petunia's care. Remembering at the last moment that she had them in her pocket, she set James' glasses aside with a painful little smile. Then fell into a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep as Remus sat in his kitchen and tried to find the words to explain to Dumbledore that a blessing had walked through his front door that night.


End file.
